Climate Control
by MrDanders
Summary: Zootopia "prequel" Takes place in the Zootopia universe equivalent of a highly romanticized industrial revolution. Slightly steam/diesel punky. (Emphasis on "slightly." It's more an excuse than anything else.) Obviously, no canon characters.
The clock tower begins to ring loudly, alerting people to the approach of the morning. Praeven awakens with a yawn that sounds not unlike several hundred street vendors starting to peddle their wares. From the marble-clad mansions of the upper districts, to the tenements in the lower districts that are generously called habitable, prey of all sizes slog into the real world. The predators that have managed to escape detection slip back into the shadows.

Down in the poorer districts, the laundry is already being hung to dry outside of the tenement buildings. Men with soot-stained fur hurriedly walk towards the nearest tram station. The last factory director was killed in an unfortunate machinery explosion, and the new one doesn't look as kindly at those who arrive late to their shift. Across the sea of dirty children playing in the street cuts a roe stag, escorting a heavily cloaked figure about half his height.

"Now, this guy, Mr. Sai, will want to look you over a bit, so I hope you're not too modest," the stag says as they brush past an apple cart. "If he thinks you're healthy enough, he might even make you a runner on the spot."

"Runner?" asks the figure under the cloak.

"You'd run shipments across town. Usually he'd make you a pick-pocket or some other easily-disposable job, but one of his best runners got caught in a sting a few weeks back. The government likes to keep knowledge of preds among the general populace minimal, so we don't know what happened to him after that. Probably executed. Mr. Sai's still looking for a replacement. You'd start out higher in the ranks than all the petty thieves he employs," the stag explains, "Though, don't get your hopes up, I've brought in close to a dozen preds to him since then, and he has yet to fill the position."

The stag elbows his way to the front of the crowd of workers waiting for a tram, ignoring to the dirty looks and dirtier words that got thrown at him.

"We'll want a seat," the stag says quietly to the cloaked figure, "Ours is one of the last stops."

A tram arrives, and the stag and his companion slip into a bench at the very back. The workers pile on, causing the ladies seated to cover their respective noses with their handkerchiefs. With a jolt the tram begins to move.

It slugs along slowly down the clogged streets, stopping several times along the way, the car filling up with more and more grime covered figures. Despite the fact that the workers represented more species than an almanac, they still all somehow look alike. Dirty, depressed, tired.

With a lurch, the tram stops at a humongous, monolithic factory, that while dirty enough to fit in this part of town, still somehow manages to look out of place. The workers file off, leaving just the stag, his companion, and several ladies replacing their handkerchiefs into their pocketbooks. The tram begins moving again with a jolt.

"Harding, what was that place?" asks the cloaked figure, craning his neck so he can stare at it while the tram continues to move.

"One of the manufacturing plants the government build about a decade ago to attract investors to Praeven. It's shifted hands at least half a dozen times since construction, so your guess is as good as mine as to who owns it now," Harding yawns, as he puts his hooves up on the seat across from him. "Get comfy, we still have another half hour"

Harding awakes with a jerk as the tram comes to a stop. The whiteness of the buildings surrounding him hurts his eyes, and he has to blink several times before he can see properly.

"This is u-" he stops as he realizes he's shaking thin air awake. He bolts straight up. "Kid?" he calls as he looks around the now-empty tram. Scanning around, he spots his companion, standing out in the square the tram had stopped next to. He scrambles out of the tram car, joining him out in the square.

"Don't call me 'kid.' I told you, my name's Dill," Dill says. He looks down at his feet and at all the building surrounding the square. "Is this all marble?" He almost whispers in awe.

"Stop staring, you look like a tourist," Harding says through a fake smile, looking around to make sure no one is looking at them. "The less people that see me leading around a half-pint Grim Reaper, the better, so let's go."

He leads Dill down one of the thoroughfares connected to the square. All the buildings gleam with a shine that suggests how much money was dumped into their construction. The excess is almost palpable. Harding stops in front of a building guarded by pillars carved to look like massive oak trunks.

"What's more inconspicuous than a library?" Harding asks no one in particular.

"Scientia est innocens," reads Dill, staring at the engraving above the massive oak doors.

Harding snickers at this. He leads Dill in through the doors, and across the indigo carpet to the receptionist's desk. A bored-looking chital sits at the desk, head resting in one hoof.

"Allliicce," Harding greets her, almost, but not quite successfully, sounding at ease. "I've got an, um, recruit for Mr. Sai," he says, as he motions to the bundle intently studying a moon pattern woven into the carpet. Alice doesn't make any indication that she even heard. Harding tries again. "Listen, I know you're probably still mad at me, but this is kind of important. We both know I don't deserve this. Yes, I forgot our date, and you, um, forgot something else, I'm sure. We both made mistakes, but at some point we both need to be adults about it and move-"

Alice fixes him with stare that makes him stop in his tracks. A faint smile plays across her lips. "You're an idiot, Harding." She sighs, and sits up. "But a lovable idiot. Mr. Sai's in."

"Thanks, babe. Knew you'd come around," Harding says, visibly becoming more relaxed. He leads Dill towards a staircase in the back.

Just before he disappears behind a bookshelf, Alice calls back, "Thursday, my place!"

"Five O'clock, like always?" He calls back, already knowing the answer. He gives her a two-fingered salute before ducking behind the bookshelf. He catches up to Dill, who's busy staring at the grand staircase, or rather, the very large oak growing between the two sets of curved staircases.

"Is that all you do, kid? Stare? You never seen a tree before?"

"When you've spent your entire life living in what can be generously called a swamp, you'll understand." Dill looks up at Harding with mild indignation, " And don't call me 'kid'. I'm probably only a few years younger than you."

With a small sigh of annoyance, Harding begins walking up the steps. Dill, still staring at the tree, notices a few moments later and joins him. At the very top floor, a hallway stretches out in front of them. Garbled opera music wafts through the door at the end. Harding walk confidently to the door labeled "SAI" and knocks. The opera music stops.

"Enter," is the almost jovial reply.

Harding opens the door. An okapi in a slightly crumpled suit sits at a solid granite desk. A gramophone sits in the corner. The room is covered with varying shades of blue and grey.

"We're here to see Mr. Sai," Harding confidently says to the okapi. Dill looks up at him in confusion. Harding hushes him with a gesture. The okapi seems unruffled by any of this.

"Got another one already?" he asks as he leans back in his chair. "Hopefully Sai'll make this one a runner, Lord knows we need one." The okapi motions them to the door on the far right side of the office. They go through, and end up in a closet. Dill looks around in confusion as Harding pulls on the knob on one of the drawers. The entire closet begins to descend.

"Before you say anything, yes, we are in an elevator," Harding explains, leaning against a dresser. "That was Mr. Sai's 'face.' Sai's a grizzly, so his 'face' takes care of representing Mr. Sai in public. The real Mr. Sai's office is below ground."

The elevator descends for another few minutes. Dill idly watches the smooth metal rush by on the side of the elevator where the wall with door used to be. Suddenly, the metal stops, and Dill looks out across an expansive cavern.

Harding stares expectantly at Dill.

"What?" Dill asks.

"Come on, kid, they _all_ gasp here. You stared at the bloody tree, but this doesn't register on your charts?"

"After all I've seen today, I think my 'charts' are official broken." Dill looks angrily up at Harding, "And don't call me 'kid.'"

Harding rolls his eyes, then looks out over the expanse as they continue to descend. It's still an impressive sight, even with as many times as he's seen it. _Mr. Sai's a sucker for fantasticism, no doubt about that,_ he thinks. _The library was probably just as much of a wish fulfillment as it was a clever disguise._ Most of the space ( _It's gotta be at least 20 acres_ , Dill thinks) is taken up by a thick forest. An ornate golden crescent moon clock, at least a few stories high, hangs at the top of the right side of the caven. A spring gushes out a hole in the opposite wall, creating a pool at the bottom. The entire scene is lit with arc lamps hanging from the ceiling, with bulbs shaped like stars.

 _How incredibly tacky_ , Dill realizes.

The elevator hits the bottom, and they both walk out onto the gravel path. Harding reaches back and pushes a button on the stone next to the elevator. The car begins ascending behind them. They follow the path through the forest, until they reach a cottage that might have been torn straight from a really rich kid's story book. It has all the trimmings of a normal fantasy-esque cottage, plus the platinum package upgrade of gold leaf edging and stained glass windows. It is possibly the greatest offense to good taste Dill had ever seen.

Harding walks up to the door and knocks. A few moments, and the door opens. A very obviously aged grizzly bear in a worsted suit fills the frame.

"Harding!" he wheezes, "Got me another one? Come in, come in."

Harding and Dill walk in. Mr. Sai leads them to a living room with a blazing fire. An overstuffed armchair sits in front of it, a book split open over one of the arm rests. Mr. Sai retakes his seat, turning it away from the fire. Harding takes the ottoman, pulling it off to the side. Dill looks in vain for somewhere else to sit, and ends up standing in front of both.

"Well kid, lemme see ya," Mr. Sai says.

With a nod from Harding, Dill removes his cloak. A eurasian lynx stands in front of them.

"Well, kid, [Harding laughs into his hoof at this] you've got muscle, that's for sure. What'd ya do before you came here?"

"Well, technically, mechanical engineering, but-"

"Engineering?" Mr. Sai leans forward in his chair, eyes widening.

"Yeah, but-" Dill says, still trying to get a word in edgewise

"Kid, how'd you like to be one of my raiders?"

"Jesus," Harding whistles.

"Like I was trying to say-" Dill stops, as he notices both of them staring at him. "What's a raider?" He asks, feeling like he's missing out on something.

"You'd be in a raid party I'm putting together. I can't be bothered to go into detail now, but I need someone who can read blueprints, to put it simply," Mr. Sai says as he leans back in his chair.

"And here I was thinking you'd be lucky to be made a runner," Harding says, still not quite composed. A heavy, thought-filled silence falls onto the room.

Finally, Mr. Sai stands up. "Well, kid, better bring you to see the rest of the team. I've got more than this valley hidden in these caves. And Harding here probably has to get back to his shop."

"Shop?" asks Dill, turning to look at Harding, "You have an actual job?"

Harding puffs out his chest a little. "Yeah. I'm a tailor. Family tradition."

"And a damn fine one, at that," Mr. Sai says, rubbing his worsted suit. "Still one of the comfiest things I own."

He leads Harding to the door, Dill trailing behind. He presses a small pouch into Harding's hooves. "Thanks, Harding. You're still one of my best. Do try not to get caught."

"Hey, I've made it this long. I'm not about to get sloppy now," Harding says as he opens the door to the cottage. "And I just got a telegram yesterday afternoon. I might have you another pred within half a week."

"Good, good. I'm still looking for a runner." Mr. Sai sighs, eyes drooping down to the ground. A few silent moments pass. He looks back up at Harding. "Well, I'll be expecting you, I guess."

"Seeya, Mr. Sai."

"It's been a pleasure, Harding."

Harding leaves, and the door closes behind him. He walks back to the elevator and pushes the call button. While he waits, he looks back.

"Jesus, kid. Raider. Good luck," He says under his breath. He turns back around. The elevator arrives, and he boards.


End file.
